


Two thousand and seven

by RedRia



Category: Architects (UK Band), Bring Me The Horizon, Pierce the Veil
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other, Seduction, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24709795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRia/pseuds/RedRia
Summary: 2007 was the year of neon monster t-shirts, thick swoopy bangs and metalcore. It was quite an interesting moment in time: the music was angsty, the shows were loud and the girls were hot. Also, 2007 was not a good year to be a very gay, very closeted dude. Of course this issue would especially exacerbate if, say, you were also to be one of the most popular dudes in metalcore in 2007. For instance, if you were to be the lead singer of Architects.
Relationships: Oliver Sykes/Other(s), Sam Carter/Oliver Sykes
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	1. Vodkaretto

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic in either of these fandoms so I'm very excited and a lil nervous 8)

2007 was the year of neon monster t-shirts, thick swoopy bangs and metalcore. It was quite an interesting moment in time: the music was angsty, the shows were loud and the girls were hot. Also, 2007 was not a good year to be a very gay, very closeted dude. Of course this issue would especially exacerbate if, say, you were also to be one of the most popular dudes in metalcore in 2007. For instance, if you were to be the lead singer of Architects.

A wave of raging sexism, machismo and abuse was hitting the Warped Tour type of bands, more than ever booming in popularity. Most of the people comprising these bands would either be homophobic assholes, or creepy predators, or both.  
Though as big as they were, Architects would always manage to gracefully stay out of all that (unlike some of their peers this story will later mention). They mainly focused on playing their instruments rather than their underage fans. But although the British band was an adorkable and progressive bunch of young adults, vocalist Sam Carter was still pretty damn skeptical about being accepted for who he was.  
While on tour, he would occasionally try and drop subtle hints to his bandmates suggesting that he exclusively, undoubtedly liked men. Well, one man in particular.  
They would be backstage, engaging in some questionable boys-in-their-early-20s ritual, such as taking turns drying their 5 sweaty faces on the same towel after a set. Sam would look somewhere distant, and ever so quietly mumble "Oli looks fit tonight".  
  
"What," Dan would snort soon after "Are you jealous about all the pussy he gets?"  
For years, that was as close as he ever got to coming out to his best friends. For years, they would never question a thing: he was masculine, broad shouldered, and hell, he was in a metalcore band screaming like a demon. Of course he was straight.  
Sam Carter spent the larger portion of 2007 looking at Oliver Sykes from the backstage. Oli, the singer from Bring Me the Horizon, the IT boy of music at the time: his face was plastered all over MySpace accounts and bedroom walls. He was controversial, polarizing, loved and despised, and every kid wanted to be him. Sam did not necessarily want to be him, but he did longingly admire him, wishing he could be as free, as fluid, as daring. And let's be honest, Oli was not hard on the eye either, and just maybe, Sam would have killed a man or two for those cheekbones.  
They knew each other since way before this whole fame thing happened for both, and Sam was not particularly fond of how it was turning out for Oli.  
Sure, Oli was making tons of money with his music, the tours and with Drop Dead clothing, but he also found ways to spend that money in the worst ways possible: mostly getting ketamine, or alcohol poisonings.  
Tonight was one of those nights.

"Mate"  
They hadn't talked much since Suicide Season came out. The two bands often partied together on weekends without shows, crashing at whoever's friends' place for the night, but Oli would always just kind of disappear. Tonight, however, he walked in the kitchen with his flannel buttoned all the way up, which was usually a sign he was still somewhat sober.  
"Killed it on set today"  
Sam smiled his typical half smirk, curving only the left side of his lips upwards. It's not that he was uncomfortable around Oli, it's that he never knew if the fact he was hopelessly head over heels for him would show, if Oli would ever notice.  
"Thanks man." At the age of 21 Sam was still a man of few words.  
"Do you mind if I-" Oli didn't finish his thought and just grabbed a chair and sat on it backwards. Then, he took a swig of vodkaretto (an invention of his, which consisted of 5 parts vodka and 1 part amaretto) looking around the empty kitchen. "No friend should drink alone" he giggled, his accent thicker than ever after one too many sips of that concoction.  
"Funny" Sam found himself replying "That's all you seem to do".  
Oli laughed again, only this time it sounded more like a scoff. "That's what happens when all your bandmates have clingy girlfriends around all the fucking time." He gave Sam an overly dramatic eyeroll, making a choked laugh escape Sam's throat.  
"You know you can drink with us."  
"Eh," Oli shrugged after one more gulp of liquor "I feel like you guys all think I'm a bit of a dick"  
Sam started picking at his lips: yeah, the twins got pretty pissed at Oli a few times for being unprofessional or late, and too high to even realize it. Other than that, his band cared for and respected him as much as always.  
"Huh? What makes you think that?"  
Oli looked straight into Sam's eyes. "The stares. You seem to stare a lot."  
Suddenly, Sam felt as though he was sitting on a fire ant nest. He was also a bit drunk and swallowed thickly, trying to mask the nervous reflex with a guttural sound. Oli didn't seem to aknowledge Sam's reaction and just spoke again, frantically getting up from his chair. "But it's probably me being paranoid. Shit, sorry, I deffo need to get high." And with that, he left the room.


	2. Can't happen while sober

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I graduated uni!! Here's a treat to myself and hopefully to you :-)  
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!  
> Xxria

"Oh for fuck's sake." Sam cupped his face with both palms, which were still veiled with sweat from the awkward interaction he and Oli had. He sat there for what felt like ages, thinking about whether he should chase him or just forget this whole thing, just let him be. 

Once again, Oli was going to be impossibly cryptic and disappear for the rest of the night. Once again, he would see him at soundcheck the night after, his eyes a little more sunken in and his face slightly paler with every show- and Sam would simply wave hello. Just like everyone else, he was but a witness to Oli's slow but sure decay. Did that mean he was complicit in it?  
"Oli?" He stood up fast, the alcohol in his body making him both dizzy and euphoric. He was not going to comply. 

The Fuentes brothers had a nice place in suburban Southern California: the basement alone was large enough to host the party, and the whole house was intricate enough to have Sam lose himself in it, caught in a light drunken haze.  
"Oli, you there?" He knocked on the third random door he encountered, and then just pushed it open when no one responded. Presented with the sight of a girl's bare torso, legs straddling someone who he soon recognized to be Vic, he quickly slammed the door shut.  
"He's in the toilet!" He heard Vic's muffled, giggly voice from behind the wall before he moved along the corridor towards the next and final door.  
He leaned into it, taking a few deep breaths before knocking three times. 

"Busy!" Oli yelled, sounding messier than their prior conversation. "Unless you have some ketch. That would be bloody great."  
Sam rested his forehead against the smooth hardwood. "It's Sam. Let me in?"  
A few moments later he heard fumbling with the lock, and there Oli was, flannel shirt now completely unbuttoned over an oversized tank top.  
"Are you going to lecture me about how straight edge and sobriety are the way to go or some shit?"  
"I was looking to get shitfaced, actually"  
Oli grinned and Sam made sure his internal swooning wasn't too obvious.  
"Come in, make yourself at home". He cackled, sniffling loudly. "No one ever joins my bathroom parties. Except for Cancer Bats, those fuckers sure know how to get wasted." He rambled on, index finger drawing invisible scribbles in the air as he slurred his words. "You Architects lads are so bloody perfect all the time, know what I mean? Never too drunk, never mess up on stage, never cheating on your pretty girlfriends and whatnot"

Now sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Sam pulled out a thick joint he had smuggled from the UK and saved for special occasions. As soon as Oli noticed, he paused his soliloquy for a moment. Then, he let out an inebriated chuckle.  
"Now won't you look at Sammy Carter. Thought smoking was no good for singers."  
Sam couldn't help but raise an eyebrow up to his hairline when Oli turned to the sink and bent over to snort a line of chalky powder.  
"What's that? That can't be great for singers either, can it?"  
"Oi, what's with all the questions?" Oli rubbed his nose with the palm of his hand, sniffling again "feel like you gonna ask me if I prefer pizza or burgers next. Like in some corny interview" Sam let out a chocked little laugh as he exhaled his first drag.  
"Way to dodge the question, mate."  
"Thanks, it's my superpower."  
Sam briefly thought that was a pretty miserable superpower to have.  
His back to the wall, Oli slided all the way down until he was sitting cross legged on the floor right in front of him. He looked way more relaxed, less spazzy and light as a feather, like his entire, uneasy body had just been pleasantly anesthesized.  
For a few minutes they passed the joint between each other in silence, except for the occasional moans reaching them from the room next door.  
But Sam did not go there to further enable Oli: he wanted to talk to him. So, finally, Sam quietly spoke:  
"And I don't have a girlfriend, actually."  
Oli threw a lazy peace sign with his right hand, which Sam struggled to interpret.  
"Never had one." He then added, swallowing hard as his mouth felt like it was filling with cotton.

"Hey." Levering himself with his arms, Oli slowly dragged his butt across the floor and towards Sam. "It's alright. Chicks seem complicated."  
They exchanged a quick, knowing glance.  
"Dudes, however.." Oli continued, taking one long drag from the joint and then moving even more dangerously close to Sam. "That's a whole different fucking story, mate."

"Huh?" Sam's mouth fell open, words coming out of it on their own "You... Are you into guys?"  
"Nah." Oli slowly exhaled a dense cloud of smoke towards Sam's mouth, who obediently inhaled it back again without breaking eye contact. "Not all of them." Their faces were now separated by mere centimeters. "How about you, Sammy? Fancy any cock?"  
Feeling cornered by Oli's body, his words and gaze, Sam found it impossibly hard to lie.  
"Sometimes I think... There might be somebody." He gulped, the smoke blurring his mind and his vision. "Don't tell the others, please."  
"Tell them what?" Oli winked, his fingers first gesturing zipping his lips closed, then putting the remains of the joint between Sam's lips. "This is between you and I. Here. Now." Oli rested his forehead against Sam's, his hands holding him steady by gripping the bathtub Sam was still sitting on.  
He quickly understood Oli was not going to make further moves: his shot was fired. Now it was up to him to take the bullet.

"Oli.." he breathed. Though he let his eyes fall shut, he could practically hear the smile tugging at Oli's lips.  
The tips of their noses softly grazed, then their mouths did. Then, as Oli's lips started to part ever so slowly, his head tilting to the side, Sam sighed and looked up at him.  
"We can't do this." His voice came out in a half-whisper.  
"What?" Oli blinked, his eyes genuinely confused and his pupils now fully dilated.  
"You're too high." Sam's voice was clear this time. "We can't do this."  
"So what?" Oli murmured, hands trailing up Sam's arms. "Who cares. It's just some healthy, innocent fun. Just a quick fuck to take the edge off things. Tour. The others."  
He started caressing Sam's neck with his thumbs, the position revealing his tattooed chest through the loose fabric of his clothes. Sam tried very hard to keep his eyes up where they were. "Don't you want me, Sammy?"  
"Fuck" he pleaded as the simple thought made his cock twitch in arousement. "Yes. Just...Not like this."

Oli clicked his tongue.  
"We both know you and I can't happen while sober." He gave Sam's cheek a couple pats, which made him feel slightly humiliated.  
"Why?"  
"When you're on ketamine everyone feels the same. It's easier to explain."  
Oli was the first to move away. As soon as he did, he wasted no time and fixed himself another line on the sink.  
"But there is no explanation to this. No amount of drugs will kill this, or have it make bloody sense." Sam watched Oli close one of his nostrils with his fingertips and then lean forward. "It's part of you, Oli. Forever. Or until the day you end up killing yourself."  
Silence haunted the room for a few seconds.  
"I'm going back downstairs."  
When Oli left the bathroom, the line of ketamine was still laid on the white porcelain.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 4 am after watching the Sadness live from 2019 all day long SO YEAH I hope u enjoy!! Comments and kudos are always loved.  
> Xxria


End file.
